


Sagiso

by foxjar



Category: Persona 2
Genre: Drama, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Online Dating, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-07 12:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: With the help of online dating, Jun follows his dreams...right into Tatsuya's arms.
Relationships: Kurosu Jun/Suou Tatsuya
Comments: 10
Kudos: 100
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	Sagiso

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dornishsphinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornishsphinx/gifts).

> I saw the prompt for tatsujun + online dating from last year's Yuletide, and I just had to write it.

The final bell chimes at three o'clock, signaling Jun's freedom. He grabs his bag before speeding out of the classroom, smiling at his students as he passes by but ready for the day to be over. The hallways are abuzz with the gossip of high schoolers on their way home or to club meetings, and Jun manages to slip past them all.

He enjoys teaching, just like his father, but sometimes he needs the stillness of silence after a long day. In the faculty room, he manages to finish grading the last stack of tests and skim through a portion of the next day's lesson plan before one of his colleagues sidles up to him.

Ms. Kitagawa, history teacher. Her purse is slung over her shoulder, one hand fiddling with the strap while the other waves at Jun. She attended university with his father and has even come over to have dinner with his family a few times, so he's closer to her than most of the other teachers.

Unlike most of the other teachers, though, Ms. Kitagawa likes to gossip and Jun just happens to be her favorite listener. He never tells her to stop — she's been to so many different countries during her tenure as a teacher, and he enjoys hearing her stories. Besides, he'd feel rude interrupting her; he gives her a few minutes of his time, and she regales him with tales of places he can only dream of.

After a brief tangent on the year she spent teaching in a fishing town in Canada, she slips into more of a personal topic. She leans in, peach-painted lips a few inches from his ear as her voice drops to a whisper.

"I have a date tonight, you know."

Jun didn't know, not until now, but he nods. His colleague's love life has also seeped into their conversations on occasion.

"Wouldn't you know it — we're meeting for the first time in person. We've been talking online for weeks."

She tells him a bit about the website she's been using before checking the time on her phone, a smile creeping onto her face as she bids Jun goodbye. He wishes her well, and he's sure he'll hear all about the details tomorrow.

Jun's never dated before. The thought has crossed his mind, especially when crushes have fluttered in his chest, but it's never lasted long. The fear of rejection has weighed him down, crushing him beneath its force. The potential repercussions — of losing a friend, or even worse — have never been worth it to him.

But he can't deny the fact that he's lonely. He moved out of his parents' home years ago after he graduated from university and found a position that enabled him to support himself. Still, as a man in his thirties — creeping up into his forties — he can't help but feel that something is missing from his life.

A friend, perhaps. A friend would be nice — someone he could vent to and spend the evening with every so often would be enough. Someone to care.

And yet there's a strange sense that winds through him, telling him he isn't feeling this strange sort of loss because he's missing out on something in life, but because something he once had is gone. The sensation makes his spine tingle, and he shivers.

He wonders how important this thing he lost must be to him if he has been able to forget it for so long. Still, he gives the website a shot. With his laptop perched atop his lap, he peers at the simplicity of the web design: sky blue detailing on a stark white background.

After clicking the button designating him as a man, the page changes to read: "You are a man looking for…"

At this, he flushes. He's never put himself out there like this, but he takes the plunge, hitting the button declaring that he's looking for men. If he's come this far, he might as well finish the signup process. Maybe he'll meet some fellow gay men, and if a romance blossoms, he wouldn't be averse to exploring whatever that might entail.

He fills out his profile, trying to be as honest as possible. For his interests, he lists floriography, astrology, math, and physics. Even before he's listed his occupation, his profile strikes him as that of a prim and proper teacher.

_Am I coming across as too uptight? Too serious?_

Jun bites his lip.

_What would make me stand out?_

For the last line of his bio section, he writes, "I'm looking for something I've lost."

Maybe it'll be vague and mysterious enough to lure someone into contacting him. For the final touch, he adds multiple flattering images of himself. There's nothing too risque — he's never taken pictures like that before, and the thought alone embarrasses him — but he can see the appeal of each.

His smile, his eyes, the way his hair curls over one eye. He knows he's an attractive man; he just needs help with initiating conversations. A little push.

This site is determined to help him with that goal, or so it says. After a free one month trial, he can continue his membership for a small fee, but for now, he just plans on seeing if his profile receives any hits.

After he's eaten dinner and settled into bed for the night, he checks his inbox. There are a few messages, and he skims each. Most are asking if he's looking for a "good time," while another asks him what his astrological sign is with a winky face at the end. He responds to the latter, telling the person that he's an Aquarius, ending the message with an inquiry as to what their sign happens to be.

The conversation that ensues is pleasant enough but not quite enough to hold his interest. He just doesn't feel the pull he's looking for. The spark.

It isn't until a few days later that he finds it. It's Sunday, his day off, and he's cleaning out his apartment. His parents are coming for a visit next week, so he's spending the day scrubbing down each and every surface of his home. Although his parents probably wouldn't fault him for a hint of dust or grime in some spots, the idea mortifies him. He wants them to see that he's doing well living by himself. He wants them to be proud of him.

When he sits down for a break midday, snapping off his rubber gloves, he opens up his laptop to check his work email. Then he sees one of the tabs on his browser blinking a note at him, informing him of a new message on the dating site.

The message reads:

> Hello. I like your profile. I don't really know what to say. I'm sure you get this a lot, but you're very handsome. And I like that note you have at the end about looking for something you've lost.
> 
> I'm searching, too.
> 
> From: Tatsu

It's the longest, most well thought out message he's received so far. Before this, the longest he'd received had asked about his body — how big, how long certain parts happened to be — along with mini-essays where people described what they wanted to do to him. Those always made him a little dizzy to read, flattered that someone wanted to touch him like that, but he didn't know them. The disconnect unnerved him.

The newest set of words comes as somewhat of a shock, but they make Jun smile. He's trying to drum up a response, but he's at a loss for words. Instead of replying immediately, he decides to look at the man's — Tatsu's — profile.

The first thing that strikes Jun about the pictures he's posted is that Tatsu isn't smiling in any of them. Somehow he just looks dissatisfied with life, but his blank stare does nothing to mar his beauty, his hair a reddish-brown and his skin sporting a tanned glow.

The occupation on his profile is listed as "detective," so Jun tries to weave that into his reply. He mentions how interesting that line of work must be, then he follows up with a few compliments: how striking his eyes look, how handsome his face is.

For a moment, he thinks about kissing him — Tatsu, this man he's never met — and the idea makes him shudder. He can imagine how it'd be as their lips met for the first time, tentative but with an unquenchable hunger driving both of them. Maybe a quiet laugh after teeth clashed or noses bumped in their haste.

The event is so vivid in his mind, almost like it's happened before. But that isn't possible, of course; he must be associating the fluttery feeling in his stomach with a movie he's seen. Jun's never even kissed anyone, so there's no way he could even have such a memory.

He doesn't tell Tatsu about what he sees. The more they talk, the more the strange scenes dart across his vision, reeling him into a world unknown to him. He hopes the fear isn't slipping into his messages, freaking out Tatsu in the process. Somehow, Jun doesn't think he'd be able to cope with it if they stopped talking. The reliance he's already started to foster for this stranger terrifies him.

After a few back and forth conversations, Tatsuya tells him his real name and that Tatsu is just a cutesy sort of nickname. Having a whole name sits better in Jun's mouth, and he practices saying it alone in his room. After repeating it half a dozen times, he feels like he's said it a hundred times. A thousand. He likes the way the sounds taste.

The first time Tatsuya asks if they can talk on mic, Jun's heart races. He wants that more than anything now, but something keeps him from expressing his excitement.

_It's too soon, _he reasons._ I shouldn't be this into him already._

_Isn't this what I wanted, though? To feel passion for someone._

Jun has to make a beeline to the nearest electronics store for a microphone before the time they agreed on. He doesn't tell Tatsuya this, like with so many other things. He doesn't tell him that he's been thinking about hearing his voice for weeks now. If he closes his eyes, he can almost hear the deep sort of tone he might have. Although there are no words — not in this pseudo-memory, anyway — there is affection spilling from every sound.

When he has his new headset on, snug as it presses against his ears, they finally take the plunge. Tatsuya speaks first, quiet but determined as if he knows Jun might be too flustered to make the first move. The fact that his voice sounds almost exactly like he's been hearing it in his head, deep and rumbly in his throat, doesn't scare Jun.

Words escape him. In a way, he's been listening for this voice his whole life; he just doesn't know how or why. There's no way Tatsuya could feel the same, no matter how much he meant what he said about looking for something he's lost.

The rope between them grows taut.

Jun wants to fall into his voice, to follow him wherever he might wish to lead him.

Jun fears loss.

The rope slackens.

When Tatsuya says his name, an ocean of blurry memories sweep over him.

"Are you okay?" Tatsuya asks, voice thick with concern.

Jun knows Tatsuya can't see him, but he nods and clenches his bedsheets in his fist.

He says, "It's so good to hear your voice."

"Yours, too." After a few moments, Tatsuya laughs, low and nervous. "I admit I'm at a loss for words."

"It's weird, isn't it?" The words come to Jun in a sudden rush. "We've been messaging back and forth for weeks now, and that came so easily. But now we're bumbling over basic conversation, almost like…"

"Like what?"

Jun breathes life into his anxiety. "Don't make me say it."

"I feel it, too." A pause, then, "Just talk to me. About anything. Tell me about your day, what you're wearing, your —"

"That's a little much, isn't it?" Jun asks, twirling the headset's cord in his finger. He bites his lip; he isn't offended, merely curious.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, but you're right. When I put it like that, it's a little weird."

_No,_ Jun wants to say. _Not weird. Just…_

_If here were here, he wouldn't have to ask. He'd be able to see in person._

This time, he lets the voice in his head fade into nothing. Instead, he tells Tatsuya about his day, about his recent visit with his parents. Anything and everything.

Tatsuya likes the sound of his voice, too. He doesn't have to say it; Jun can feel it in the way he lets him yammer on about every topic that pops into his head.

They fall asleep to each other's breathing, discussion finally exhausted by the time the sun starts to rise. Jun dreams of finding Tatsuya in the dark, of reaching out towards him and feeling the warmth of his skin. He traces his face with his fingers, and despite the shadows blocking him from sight, Jun recognizes every inch. He knows those cheekbones, those lips.

Tatsuya says nothing, his voice lost in the darkness. More than anything, Jun wants to find it, but it'll have to wait for another time — another night of searching the abyss, his ears awaiting the sound that never comes.

He wonders if Tatsuya is searching for him in his dreams, too.

After a few evenings full of riveting conversation, swapping stories over the crackle of their microphones, Tatsuya caves. It isn't unexpected, but Jun's entire body slackens with relief when he does so.

If not Tatsuya, it would have been Jun himself, and he isn't sure he would have been able to express it so simply.

"I want to see you," Tatsuya says.

Not "meet." He's already met him before, after all. More times than either of them could ever count, in a world neither will ever fully understand.

Jun doesn't care anymore that the idea is absurd. He wants to know if Tatsuya will feel the same beneath his hands in real life, if his smile will be as warm as in his dreams. Just for him.

They set up a meeting for the following Sunday. Jun doesn't know what to wear, what to say, how to feel. His once clean room is littered with shirts, pants, jackets; every article of clothing meets either the floor or his bedspread. He's always put care in the way he dresses, wanting to express his own individuality in small ways, but clothing has never frustrated him this much before.

Somewhere in the corners of his mind, there are memories of times he's met with Tatsuya in that other life. There are long-sleeved shirts in an array of colors, jackets in styles he's never even seen before, and pants he's never owned. They all hang on him like clothes upon a coat rack, waiting for more. Always waiting for more.

Jun wants to recreate the visions he sees in his head to the best of his abilities, but he cannot. He isn't that person, if he ever was, but he still wants Tatsuya to see him as he appears in these strange dreams of his, wants him to be so overcome with emotion when he sees him that he can't hold himself back.

If he could, he'd give Tatsuya a piece of whatever it is they've lost. But in the end, his worries are absurd; Tatsuya could arrive half-naked, and Jun would still feel just as strongly for him.

It isn't the clothes that matter, after all. It isn't their outward appearance; it's something inside, so deep they never knew it was there until they found each other.

He frets with his hair, too — brushing it back and away from his eye, tucking it behind his ear. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he lets out a shaky sigh. He's putting too much thought into this, and he thinks even Tatsuya would agree.

_Just be yourself,_ he might say.

Jun would very much like to hear such words in person, to be swept up and away from the life he's led and into something magical.

Into Tatsuya's arms — the last place he thought he'd ever end up again.

He brushes his hair back over his eye, watching it dance and curl beneath each stroke. This is him. He just hopes Tatsuya will prefer this version of him, not whatever person his dreams have been showing him.

Jun sees him before his train fully stops, standing at the station with a bouquet of flowers clutched to his chest, reddish-brown hair shifting as the train slows down. His heart thrums in his chest, hands pressing against the cold window as Jun reaches for him. Although the glass thwarts him now, it won't be for much longer.

Tatsuya sees him, too; his whole body perks up as if finally waking from a decades-long sleep. And in a way, it's been exactly that.

They don't run, despite the fire inside both of them compelling them forward. They meet in the middle of the station, less than a foot between them when they stop pushing themselves, not daring to take another step just yet.

"Hello," Jun says, the first to speak this time as his fingers brush through the hair covering his face. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. "Are those for me?"

The bouquet's paper crinkles as Tatsuya hands the flowers to him, fingers almost brushing during the exchange but not quite. Not close enough just yet.

"They are." Tatsuya nods, shoving his newly freed hands into his pockets. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, either. "I know you like flowers. I read about these online, and they just seemed right."

The flowers are as white as snow, the petals reaching out like wings on a bird. Although he's never seen them in this sort of arrangement before, the meaning is not lost on him.

"You've been dreaming of me, too?" he asks. Tatsuya nods, eyes meeting in a confession that defies both logic and words.

It hasn't all been in Jun's mind, then. At some point, his grip on logic slipped away, and although he stopped letting it define his actions, it still worried him.

_What if Tatsuya didn't feel the same? What would I have done then?_

Here Jun is, with the man of his dreams before him, and he's pouring over the "what ifs."

It's Tatsuya who leans in for the first kiss, flowers crinkling between them as their skin finally meets. It feels even better than it had in Jun's dreams: dry but firm lips pressing against his own, nervous with a hint of desperation. Tatsuya cups his face, pulling him closer, ignoring — or forgetting — that they're in public.

Right now, that doesn't matter. There's just Tatsuya and the kiss, and oddly, no new visions are swimming through Jun's head. There's only the here and now.

Tatsuya is even kissing him despite how different Jun looks from how he appeared in the dreams. He's older and maybe a little taller, with a different fashion sense as the nineties slipped away. He's wiser than the boy in their dreams — a little softer around the edges. They're both worn down by time and a life lived with that eternal craving, but they're together at last.

"I'm sorry." The apology slips through Tatsuya's smirk. "No good?"

Jun shakes his head, pulling him back in to bump their foreheads together before he kisses him again. Tears fill his eyes and he knows that, finally, at least this one thing is right. As it should be.

This time, he isn't willing to leave Tatsuya's side. To forget.

Nobody can tear them apart again.

**Author's Note:**

> sagisō  
鷺草 （さぎそう）  
— pecteilis radiata, white egret flower; "my thoughts will follow you into your dreams."


End file.
